Schmoozing
by astrid may
Summary: To Schmooze: To talk casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection. SJ S9


Jack hated schmoozing.

And what was he currently doing?

Yep, schmoozing.

This was just one in a long line of schmoozing events he had been to since becoming Head of Homeworld Security. Had he known there would be so many 'social evenings' he was 'required' to attend to appease the bureaucratic asses he would never have agreed to the whole Washington gig in the first place. No-Siree.

The only variety to these things was the venue. This one was being held in the home of Ambassador someone or other. It was quite nice digs. Must be earning a lot, Jack mused, staring up at the huge chandelier. General Casey (asshole) was standing directly under it...he eyed the chain supporting its weight from the ceiling...

His eyes were starting to sting from staring into the light, so he sighed almost wistfully and looked away. As he waited for the black spots to clear from his vision he pulled at the scratchy collar of his tux (oh yes, _casual_ this evening) and wished he'd had time to wash the new shirt with his newly discovered fabric softener. Teal'c had been the one to recommend it actually, but that was another story.

He glanced around the room he was currently stood in and located the nearest exit. Ah yes a window in the corner, a little on the small side, but he was sure he could squeeze through. His companion would fit easily enough, he could send her for reinforcements if need be.

Speaking of...he peered over the shoulder of Senator pain-in-the-ass-number-four (who was _still_ babbling at him, completely oblivious to the fact that he hadn't been listening since the guy opened his mouth) and scanned the room for her.

The sight of her brought a smile to his lips. He still couldn't believe that she was actually his. His Sam...his wife. Five months, two weeks, six days and counting. It was certainly longer than he had thought she would be able to put up with him. And what an amazing five months, two weeks, six days it had been. His smile widened a hair and he took a sip of his drink in an attempt to be discreet. Sam had warned him of his tendency to openly ogle once his mind wandered.

He nodded at ass-pain-four (seemingly appeasing him as he launched into a new round of dialogue, complete with wild arm gestures) before turning all his attention back to Sam. She hadn't attended many of these 'events' with him, what with her commitments to the SGC and he hated that this was how they were spending one of the few nights they actually had together.

Still, he was glad she was here with him. He wasn't having quite as bad a time as he would have been having alone. And he got to ogle Sam (discreetly of course) looking _so hot_ in a floor length creamy, satiny, sexy, split-up-the side-showing-a-tantalising-glimpse-of-toned-leg dress.

As if she could feel his gaze on her, Sam turned and looked straight into his eyes. She raised an eyebrow in a gesture which seemed to say 'I know what you're doing'. He smirked and raised his glass to her in acknowledgement, making her smile and turn back to listen to the group of women she was chatting with.

Feeling he could now stand maybe another twenty minutes of this torture he looked back at four-ass and tuned in.

"...so that's when Windsor first invited me and my wife."

Jack tried not to look baffled, but the guy was waiting for some sort of reply and he had no idea what he'd been saying. He settled on a casual "Really?"

The guy smiled and rubbed a hand over his pretty-much-bald head "Yeah...its kind of a rush you know? I never thought Patty would agree, but to tell you the truth...." he glanced over both shoulders and leaned towards Jack to bestow a conspiratorial smile "...it's improved our sex life dramatically, know what I'm saying?"

If he hadn't been trained in special ops, Jack was sure his eyes would be bulging out of his head right now "Uh...what?"

Seeming to take this as encouragement, the Senator gestured at the women Sam was talking to "Patty's in the green dress over there, doesn't she look great?"

What? "Uh...yeah..."

"She never used to get so dolled up until we came to these things...holy...did you see the blonde fox over there O'Neill?!"

_What_? "That's. My. Wife."

"You're kidding me right? Man oh man, if I had a wife like that, I don't think I'd need another woman, let alone allow another guy to be with her."

WHAT!?! He gaped. He wanted to deck the guy, but he was frozen as a horrible realisation slowly, _slowly_, started to occur to him. It took a moment to force the words through his suddenly tight throat "This is a..." he almost choked on the word "...swingers...party."

"Absolutely my friend. Say, do you think you could introduce me to your wife?"

Oh. My. God.

He blinked. How the _hell_ had they ended up at a freaking _swingers_ party? Sam was going to kill him. He had been invited in the usual manner, a quick memo on his desk and he had turned up accordingly...

It all made a sick kind of sense now, he realised as he took another look at the room. The private venue, the minimum of guests – God! – he had thought it was just a small, cosy, friendlier affair. He glanced down at his tux…special ops trained...god he was an idiot.

He looked back up at the Senator and couldn't help the glare as he registered what had just been asked of him, _over his dead body! _He looked back towards Sam in alarm and noticed some men had joined the group and one of them was talking to her! She was smiling her gorgeous smile at him...

He pushed passed the bald twerp and made a beeline for Sam.

He knew she was surprised when he grasped her elbow and turned her around, her smile fell away and she searched his face with wide blues eyes "What's wrong?" she asked quietly glancing at the man watching them from beside her.

Jack too looked at the man, he was pretty sure he was a General and although he wasn't concerned about appearances right now, he knew Sam would be.

He tightened his grip on her arm "Can I have a word?"

He could see the concern on her face, but she didn't question him further, just excused herself from the group and allowed Jack to lead her to the hallway.

Once they were at a safe distance Jack stopped and faced her "We have to leave."

"What?"

"We're leaving. Now." He grabbed her arm again and looked for the door, but she didn't move. "C'mon!" he implored.

"What? Why? Jack..." She looked from him, towards the door to the party and back again "What's going on?"

"We have to leave!"

Normally he would have felt guilty (and slightly amused) at the look on her face, but panic blinded him to all else as his eyes searched desperately for an exit.

"Where the _hell_ is the _god_ _damned _door!" yeah, there was a 'touch' of anger laced in with the panic.

There was SO gonna be hell to pay, when he traced that memo back to its owner.

"Jack!" Sam dug her heels in, forcing him to stop as he wouldn't let go of her arm. "What's happened?"

Loosening his grip, he trailed his fingers gently down her arm, linking them with hers. He felt himself start to relax slightly; something he was beginning to learn came hand in hand with touching Carter skin (not that he'd tried with Jacob) as she squeezed his hand reassuringly and laid her free one against his chest.

He took a deep breath "Carter…"

Sam, bless her, blinked wide blue eyes at him innocently and he felt himself getting red in the face.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat and looked at the floor, the ceiling, the antique bureaux in the corner…

"Um…I made a bit of a mistake… we shouldn't have come here tonight." He said to the coat stand.

Sam frowned "What mistake? Why do we have to leave?"

He grimaced. Just how _do _you tell your beloved you've brought her to a wife swapping party without her knowledge…he saw divorce in his future, it was going to be five months, two weeks, six days full stop.

He settled on "These people aren't normal." There, that should explain why they should leave.

Sam stayed stubbornly rooted to the spot.

"Not normal? Everyone I spoke to was nice enough, charming even."

His blood boiled at the thought of all those smarmy bastards in there chatting up his beautiful wife "Of course they were." He growled.

"Jack, please!"

He closed his eyes. She obviously wasn't leaving without an explanation and he could never say no to those words, not when they were coming from her.

"This is a swingers party Carter." He mumbled.

When the silence stretched on a bit, he peeked open one eye to look at her, uncertain of whether she would look upset, angry or if he would see a fist flying towards him. He had at least expected a "You brought me to a WHAT?"

He didn't expect the blank look on her face.

"They want to have sex with you." He helpfully explained

She blushed.

Despite the urgency of the situation, he took a moment to gaze at her pink cheeks (he was allowed to do that now) and commit to memory another favourite Sam expression. It also helped to distract him from the fact that because of the situation HE was still blushing. He wasn't going to draw attention to the fact though, in the hope that she hadn't noticed, otherwise he would never live it down…especially if she told Daniel or - god forbid - Cassie. It seemed to be the girl's sole mission to thoroughly humiliate him lately and this would certainly bring out that evil little smile again.

Not that it mattered. He was pretty sure any mention of this night in the future would make him blush.

Before he could coax Sam out of her catatonic state, the door they had just escaped out of swung open and slammed back against the wall, causing them both to jump and raising Jack's ire all over again – he'd faced down hordes of Jaffa with nothing so much as the hairs on his knuckles and been less jumpy than this!

The exuberant party goer turned out to be a Colonel 'somebody', whom they had both been introduced to earlier in the evening and whose name Jack had promptly forgotten.

"Hey, there you are! C'mon back inside – they're about to get started."

Sam's face turned a shade redder.

"You got you're keys?" the shrub asked.

What? Keys? _What_!?

Was that some sort of euphemism?

His smile widened as neither of them answered. "Y'know, you put you're keys in the bowl…mix 'em all up…" he swirled the hand holding his champagne glass in demonstration, sloshing liquid over the parquet floor "…then a lady…" he paused to leer at Sam "…pulls a set out identifying the vehicle from the logo on the key and the gentleman to whom they belong makes himself known and _there_ my friends, you have the beginnings of a good party!"

Ah. Well. That explained why everyone he'd spoken to had asked him what type of vehicle he drives. He thought that maybe transportation was just some sort of hot topic in DC.

Obviously not.

He dreaded to think of how many guys had 'informed' Sam of what type of car they drive.

Judging by Sam's still pink cheeks, her forced smile and shockingly strong grip on his hand, Jack suspected that this was one of those 'you got us into this mess-you can get us out' scenarios.

"We-" he choked on the frog in his throat. After a somewhat loud and prolonged attempt to clear it he managed to say "We'll be right in."

The guy grinned and headed back through to the party.

A moment later he popped his head back around the door frame "By the way…did I tell you about my new Porsche?"

His question echoed around the empty corridor walls and he blinked in surprise at the open front door as it swayed slightly in the breeze.

END


End file.
